


In Too Deep

by davonysus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Ghost Sex, HP Suds Fest 2020, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Not Really Character Death, Wraith, patronus themes, sads, there is a happy ending i promise, who let me go wild on mythology wikis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:15:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27400102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/davonysus/pseuds/davonysus
Summary: Harry and Draco began a secret relationship in sixth year, meeting most nights by the Great Lake. Draco drowns one night, leaving Harry heartbroken but when he returns for eighth year he discovers that Draco may not be as gone as he once seemed. Can he save Draco, or will they be navigating incorporeal intimacy forever?or: kinky ghost sex intersects with lots of weird mythology, read at own risk xo
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 57
Collections: HP Suds Fest 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [triggerlil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/triggerlil/gifts).



Returning for eighth year was a decision Harry already regretted. Wandering the halls most nights Harry knew sleep wouldn’t find him; at least during their year hunting Horcruxes he’d been able to stay distracted by the mission. So many of the castle’s corridors now held dark secrets—corners where they’d held each other, suits of armour they’d ducked behind to avoid revealing themselves. The Great Hall had at least been a shared pain for many, one that had been addressed in McGonagall’s lengthier-than-usual welcome feast. Most other places seemed to be his pain to bear alone and Harry cursed himself once more for thinking this would bring anything other than suffering.

He’d tried his best to steer clear of areas that brought back the strongest memories but it was impossible to avoid every corner of the castle; until this year Harry hadn’t realised just how much of Hogwarts was coloured by memories of the boy who had forever ruined him for love. In his mind it hadn’t seemed like it would be that difficult an undertaking. When he thought back to all the pain and suffering he’d experienced prior to even setting foot on Hogwarts soil, not to mention in the first five years of his schooling, Harry had reasoned with himself that he had always coped just fine. Each year had still brought the joyous anticipation of coming back, of coming _home_ , and yet that feeling had died with _him_.

Running his fingertips along the windows of the library Harry took a moment to consider the hollowed cheeks and dark circles that stared back from his reflection before looking beyond it to the dark grounds outside. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes wandered where he knew they would, no matter how strongly he willed them not to. The inky black surface of the Great Lake was partially hidden in rolling white fog tonight but the vast expanse was bound to have a few breaks in the cloud cover. The shimmering water moved in a way that was eerie and yet comfortingly familiar to Harry, reflecting the moon where it was able to shine through. Every moment since he’d returned to the castle this year had been spent trying desperately not to think about the water’s depths. Desperation wasted, as no amount of willpower could repress the heartbreak and pain that had haunted him for almost two years.

Only distantly aware of Ron and Hermione bidding him goodnight, Harry nodded absentmindedly as he felt the walls around his heart begin to collapse once more. Countless, endless months had been spent building them from the ground up again after he’d allowed himself a few painstakingly fleeting months of breaking them down. Ephemeral as the time had been, it was the one decision in this life he wouldn’t trade for the world. That, and perhaps embracing death in the Forbidden Forest just weeks earlier. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit that part of him still longed for an alternative ending to that story, where he’d boarded the train and found out once and for all if his heart could be pieced back together in whatever lay beyond.

In a split-second decision that he refused to dwell on for fear of confirming his insanity, Harry pulled his fingers back from the window and let his legs take him where he had dared not tread since that fateful night in sixth year. Though it had been a while since he’d walked this path it had been etched into the depths of his mind, branded on his muscle memory long before he’d faced the necessity of having to avoid it. With every defiant step he felt his chest get tighter and the clamminess of his hands grow more uncomfortable yet he had passed the point of no return. Something was pulling him, be it fate or simply errant curiosity. Who was he to deny his heart when closure was so desperately sought?

Through the doors in the Entrance Hall he continued, the chill air hitting his face with force that felt disproportionate for the calm night he’d been led to expect when peering through the windows above. Steps halting for a moment, Harry closed his eyes as he let the chaotic winds consume him and fill him with a renewed sense of purpose, coupled with the familiar longing and desire that this walk brought about. The memories came flooding back as quickly as he’d known they would, lending even more weight to his decision to push them away as soon as it had become apparent they were to remain just that: memories.

Eyes open once again he spared a glance for the Forbidden Forest to his left, thoughts torn between the first and last times he’d frequented it. The irony wasn’t lost on him; that first detention he’d wanted nothing more than to be rid of Malfoy and now… Well, Harry’s mind was so lost on him that he thought he’d seen Draco watching him from the Great Lake’s edge while taking those final steps towards death. Still bitter that the Resurrection Stone had brought back all but one of those he’d loved for what he’d believed to be his final moments, Harry peeled his eyes from where the grass became trees and locked on his destination once more. The edge of the lake. _Their_ edge of the lake.

Walking forward with the same determination laced with terror that he’d felt as he approached Voldemort in the clearing, Harry refused to stop as he let his feet lead him towards the closest bank. From there he’d be able to walk the well worn path that had been committed to memory after their first few trysts. They seemed like they belonged to someone else, lived in another lifetime long ago.

There was a fog hanging low over the water for which Harry was grateful; though he loathed to admit it at times—particularly now—his fear hadn’t faded over the years. If anything it had come back with a vengeance and being here tonight did nothing to help the terror he felt twisting in his stomach. He shouldn’t have come. It was too late to turn back now without living through more regret than this lake had already plagued him with and yet every fibre of his being was being torn in two. Half of him wanted to flee, to run for the hills and never look back. Oh, how many times he considered _Obliviating_ himself on the daily, starting anew without the holes that fate had carved into his heart. Yet half of him felt as though it had been set alight; the adrenaline coursing through his veins was something he hadn’t felt since the final battle, perhaps before even that. Exhilarating as the fight had been, Harry struggled to remember a time he had truly felt anything in his soul as deeply as what Draco had done to him.

Blinking back looming tears as the moon shone down through a gap in the clouds, Harry saw the lake reflecting silver radiance before him. The water’s surface was still where he faced it but for the smallest ripples as things too small for his eyes to see from here made contact with the lake. A few more minutes and he would reach his destination. Harry desperately hoped that he hadn’t made a terrible mistake coming back to their old haunt, choosing to listen to the voice in his head that craved feeling something, _anything_ , even if all he felt was his heart being wrenched from his chest all over again. Scared as he was he gave in to the temptation, unsure he would have been able to stop if he’d tried; his feet had a mind of their own, drawn to the clearing further ahead between the lake and the Forbidden Forest. Pure magnetism was driving him tonight.

The minutes ticked by in such a way that made Harry feel like it took him an eternity to wade through the unkempt grass path and yet once he was there he felt like no time had passed at all. Breathing the air deep into his lungs Harry waited, holding out for something that he hoped tonight would bring him. Peace, perhaps. Closure, definitely. He would no longer be able to hide from the darkest corners of his mind after playing host to his heart’s whims tonight, but there was enough of a chance that those corners may lose some of their darkness after being confronted head on. Harry had never been one to run from a challenge—though usually not by choice these past years—and now was as good a time as any to remember that. Two years of hiding from the heartbreak that tore him apart was all the time he would allow himself. For better or worse, it ended tonight.

Unsure how long he spent gazing into the depths, Harry stayed until he felt like the lake had given him all he could take from it. A few times he’d heard startled cries break past his lips, having seen Draco’s watchful face under the surface reflecting the shock he was sure had painted itself across his features. It was to be expected that he would see him here; his mind was allowing his heart this final fantasy as one last look before that part of himself was sealed tightly forever. As he turned and prepared to retrace his steps up to the castle Harry felt a weight lift from his shoulders, one he’d been carrying for so long it had become part of his identity. It settled deep in his chest and he knew now with certainty that despite finding closure at the lake’s edge tonight, he would never fully be able to give his heart again. It belonged to Draco just as much as it had those blissful years ago.

Walking slower now that the magnetic pull he’d felt earlier seemed to have vanished, Harry allowed a sad smile to cross his face as he hoped fervently that wherever Draco was, whatever had become of him after leaving this world behind, he had found peace.

“You came back.”

Harry froze, nightmares surfacing once more as Draco’s voice rang out from behind him. He should have listened to the rational part of his mind telling him that returning to their hideout would bring nothing but painful memories. Pressing his eyelids firmly shut, Harry was unsure if he was trying to hide from the world around him or just rejecting the tears that threatened to fall.

“Harry?”

It felt like an eternity had passed since Draco’s voice last sung out to him so clearly. Though he knew it was wrong Harry keened his ears towards the source of the noice, hoping to commit his lover’s voice to memory once more. He had been surviving on broken memories and suffocating dreams for too long; who was he to deny himself this fleeting happiness, false as it may be?

“Perhaps I was wrong. You didn’t come back for me then…why would you now?”

Guilt bubbled up inside Harry even as he tried to remind himself that this was his own subconscious at work. Maybe this was the conversation his heart needed to have to finally be freed of the hurt and suffering. Oh but how beautiful the echo of Draco’s voice was, no matter how hurtful the words. Harry would return to this place every night if it meant even one more breath that filled him with feelings he knew he would never feel so strongly for another again. Taking a shaky gasp of air, Harry kept his eyes determinedly closed and allowed himself to turn towards the water’s edge, imagining Draco standing before him as he had been those years ago.

“Draco. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner—”

“If you’re meeting someone else, you needn’t spoon-feed me.” Petulant as ever, even in Harry’s subconscious, Draco was crossing his arms and huffing in Harry’s direction. “Though I can’t understand why, seeing as we both know you’ll never find someone better than me.”

Harry laughed, surprising both himself and the vividly constructed mental image before him. “You’re so real here.”

Draco arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Honestly, Potter. You’re as daft as ever. Of course I’m real here. I’ve always been real here.”

“In my memories,” Harry agreed, nodding. “I know. I just didn’t realise they’d have a life of their own or I’d have come back sooner.”

“You really think this isn’t real, don’t you?”

Draco stepped forward and Harry ached with the need to reach out, to touch him, to be with him again. Curling his hands into fists to resist the urge he allowed a sad smile, trying to calm his racing heart.

“It’s okay. I know it’s not real but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it for a while, right?”

Draco shook his head as he sighed, looking as exasperated with Harry as he always had when he’d said something stupid. “Open your eyes, Harry.”

Pressing his eyelids shut tighter, Harry shook his head as he felt the first of his tears sliding down his cheek. “I don’t want you to disappear. Let me pretend for a minute longer.”

“Harry. Trust me.”

Draco stepped closer now, so close that all Harry would have to do was lean forward and be pressed against him once more. It took every ounce of self restraint he could muster not to do just that. No matter how adamant the Draco in his mind was, Harry refused to let this moment slip away just yet. Stilling himself as he deepened his breathing, Harry imagined that he could almost feel someone standing before him. Almost hear the way Draco’s voice had echoed in the air around them. Merlin, his imagination had brought back the subtle smell of citrus and mint, so intoxicating to his senses.

“I trust you, Draco. But this is my doing, and I don’t trust myself not to lose you when my eyes are open.”

He watched as the boy before him rolled his eyes fondly, laughing at how well preserved Draco’s every expression was in his mind. It wasn’t until he felt something touch his hand that his eyes blinked opened, body recoiling slightly as he saw that there was another hand against his, prying his fist open and tangling their fingers together.

“Is it really that hard to believe that I can exist outside of your head, Potter?”

Beneath the taunting scorn Harry heard something akin to insecurity, echoed in Draco’s reversion to his surname. Steel grey eyes met green as Harry looked up to see Draco before him, dressed in the white button-down and black trousers he’d been wearing in his final moments. The familiarity of it felt like a curse to the heart; Draco stood before him clear as day but for the ethereal haze that seemed to surround him. Draco’s confusion almost matched Harry’s own as he dropped his gaze to look at where their hands grasped one another’s. It felt like Harry had stuck his fist into a bucket of ice yet his soul felt like it had been set alight. _Draco was here._ Shaking his head, he steeled himself as a million thoughts barraged ahead of one another, vying for his attention.

“How?”

“I’m… Not sure. This is the first time I’ve managed to hold something physical.”

“You mean—oh.” Harry shook his head. “Not just our hands, Draco. How are you here at all? I saw…” He faltered, voice breaking as another tear followed the first. “I saw you drown.”

“You did.” Draco nodded, looking back to Harry’s tear-filled eyes. “You never came back to see what followed.”

Harry gasped as the hand in his seemingly disappeared, replaced by a feeling of icy cold emptiness. Gaze dropping he saw Draco’s hand shimmering in the moonlight, translucent and inside of Harry’s own.

“You’re a ghost,” Harry stammered. “How did you—”

“I’m not a ghost, Harry.”

Hurriedly stepping back, Harry raised his hands in front of him. “You’re not real, this isn’t real, I just imagined feeling your hand—”

“Don’t you see?” Draco asked, gliding slowly towards Harry as his body became more of a glowing outline than the boy who stood before him moments ago. “I’ve been trapped by this lake for too long. Like this. You came back and I was whole again, even just for a moment. Don’t you understand that?”

“You’re wrong,” Harry spat. “That was my mind playing tricks on me. You’re a ghost now, Draco, I can’t fix that.”

Draco halted, tilting his head as he considered Harry standing before him. “What happened to your saviour complex, Potter?”

“I can’t save the dead.” Harry was gasping for air now, desperately wanting to run back to the dorms and pretend this never happened but somehow rooted to the spot.

“I’m not a ghost.”

“You’re not alive.”

“Hmm.” Draco moved closer to Harry, face mere inches from his. “Yet they say you died not so long ago yourself. What makes it fair that you should live while I remain between the planes?”

A broken cry came from Harry’s lips as he collapsed forward to his knees, feeling the chill of Draco’s incorporeal form where it surrounded him. “It’s not fair. I would have died so that you could live, Draco.”

“And yet you live, but won’t help me do the same. Ever the contradiction, Potter.”

Tears turning to droplets of ice against his skin where Draco’s temperature froze them, Harry felt himself start to fade as the world around him spun on its axis. He shifted back onto his heels, world righting itself as he removed his body from inside Draco’s. “I don’t understand how I can help. You’re dead. How am I supposed to bring a ghost to life?”

“I told you already. I’m not a ghost, Potter.”

“Then what are you? How do you explain...” Gesturing to Draco where he shone in the moonlight, Harry all but shouted in confusion. “All of this?”

Running one of this hands down Harry’s face, leaving a cool chill in its wake, Draco sighed. “That’s for you to find out.”

Harry jerked back from the cold air by his face, turning confused eyes on Draco above him. “That’s all I get? Even if it were possible, Draco… You can’t really expect me to figure this out alone?”

“You don’t believe me.”

Recoiling once more from Draco’s icy tone, Harry shrugged slowly as an uneasy feeling spread through him. “It’s not that I don’t believe you—”

“Then you don’t want to save me.”

“That’s not it!” Harry threw his hands up in the air before grabbing onto the ends of his hair, feeling crazier by the minute.

Draco’s head tilted as he watched Harry, expressionless. “You didn’t come for me then, Potter. You didn’t try and save me when you had the chance. Why should I be so stupid as to think you would care now?”

Words wrenching a broken sob from deep within, Harry felt the pain of losing Draco as raw as it had been the night he’d watched him drown. “I’ve always cared, Draco. I never stopped loving you, even now—”

“I watched them all. Everyone came. I kept watching, waiting, but you never came.” Draco paused, clearly deep in his memories, before he spoke again, softer this time. “I thought you were happy to be rid of me.”

“Draco—”

“I know.” Draco waved off Harry’s broken cry with a wave of his translucent hand, glazed eyes fixed on something towards the castle. “You had bigger things to deal with than my death, right?”

“How could you even think that?” Harry pleaded. “I thought of nothing but you the entire time we were out there, Draco, it hurt so badly I could hardly bear it. I wanted to believe you were still here, wanted so badly to search for you in case you’d made it out alive.”

“You say that as if you couldn’t search for me, Potter. What, did the Dark Lord curse you so that you couldn’t set foot near water while he lived? Give you a fear of Grindylows?”

“Not Voldemort,” Harry said softly. “Your parents.”

There was silence for a moment as a flicker of something crossed Draco’s face, too sudden for Harry to make sense of it. As quickly as he’d let the expression show his mask was back up once more, sneer in place.

“Like that’s ever stopped you before.”

Harry reached out as Draco turned away, beginning to drift back to the lake. Everything inside him was in turmoil; he wanted so badly to remain here with Draco, _his_ Draco, yet something was unsettling him. The ache in his chest had become a searing fire that threatened to burn him from the inside out. He’d long ago closed himself to the possibility that he would see Draco again in this lifetime and now that life was presenting him with what he’d wanted more than anything these past years he could hardly bear to collect.

“I’m sorry, Draco. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for you then.” His whisper was quiet yet he knew the wind was carrying his apology to where Draco had halted his retreat by the edge of the bank. Harry closed his eyes as tears spilled down his cheeks, voice breaking as he said his final goodbye. “I love you.”

There were voices by the water that fought for Harry’s attention as he made his way back towards the castle. Wary of stepping too close to the lake for fear of seeing more things he wasn’t ready for, he didn’t investigate further, instead keeping an errant ear out as he heard their chatter. Despite being recognisably English speaking voices—which ruled out Merfolk—Harry didn’t feel like these creatures were quite human. More ghosts perhaps?

Some speakers required straining to hear and while none referenced him directly by name Harry felt an inexplainable pull to them, as if they were trying to communicate something to him yet didn’t know him well enough to call for him. The sounds were captivating yet the draw he felt was less pronounced than Draco’s magnetism had been. Heart aching as he remembered the final haunted look in Draco’s eyes, Harry wasn’t sure how to feel now other than empty. It was all he had felt for so long that his emotions swirled about inside him too chaotically to make sense of; a few moments of dwelling on their conversation and Draco’s dismissal of his efforts was all it took for a piping hot rage to take over his body. He saw red, colouring the world around him as he vowed never to let himself fall in love again. The pain was more than he could stand and the waves of anger pulsing through him were too wild to get a grip on.

“Wait.”

The softly spoken word behind him froze his enraged return to the castle, though he still felt the fire thrumming through his veins. _How ironic_ , Harry thought. All the time he’d spent wanting to hear Draco’s voice again and now that his wish had been granted they’d immediately fallen back into old patterns. Not even ten minutes in his presence and Harry wanted to punch the prat in the face just as much as he wanted to kiss the stupid smirk off it.

“Malfoy.” He spat out Draco’s surname with the malice he wished he truly felt as he turned and his heart caught in his throat once more.

It was unfair, truly, how even in death Draco could bring about such depth of feeling inside Harry. Most of all, he hated how much Draco’s words had torn him apart.

“I forgive you.”

Three words floated gently on the wind to Harry’s ears and just like that, all of the rage bubbled to the surface and threatened to tear its way out of his veins through his skin.

“Bloody hell, Malfoy. I don’t need you to forgive me for anything. I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Draco’s voice was quiet, tone reserved. “You said it yourself, Potter. Everyone blamed you. Who can argue with that?”

“Literally you, you prat!” Harry stormed back towards where he stood by the lake’s edge, breath coming in hot puffs of steam in front of him as he all but growled at Draco. “ _You_ know I didn’t kill you.”

Draco tilted his head, arching an eyebrow at Harry’s indignant words. “You might not have been the one who drowned me, but don’t think for a second that you couldn’t have saved me if you’d tried. Were you truly not so quick to give up on me, Potter?”

 _You could have saved him._ The words echoed through Harry’s mind like a broken record, pushing thought after thought, emotion after emotion, everything tumbling together in a chaotic whirlwind reminiscent of flying in a thunderstorm. His body was shaking violently, so much so he felt that he might be ill, and he felt sweat begin to drip from every pore. Harry bent forward, hands on his knees to keep him vaguely upright as he tried to speak through his constricting throat. “Everyone said you were dead, Draco. They searched for weeks.”

“They?” Draco’s tone was cold, laced with bitterness. “So you didn’t even search for me.”

Harry lifted his head, eyes seeking out Draco from beneath the hair plastered across his forehead and finding him looking at the ground between them with a scowl on his face. “Like I said, I couldn’t—”

“You said my parents kept you away. Why?” Something flashed across his features as his head snapped up to meet Harry’s pleading gaze. “They thought you pushed me in, didn’t they?”

Nodding, Harry felt hot tears prickling at the corners of his eyes as he remembered the weeks of agony, unable to join in the search for Draco while having his pain continually stoked by the onslaught of death threats and congratulations for the accused murder of his lover.

“Did they take you before the Wizengamot?”

Harry shook his head. “No. But they wouldn’t let me search for you, Draco, it was awful.”

A pause followed, Draco’s eyebrows lifting as he took in this information. “Nobody… They only stopped you from the search?” His shout was incredulous, the insult he felt apparent in both his voice and expression. “You’re saying they didn’t even _try_ to arrest my killer?”

“You know I didn’t kill you!”

“Yes, well. They didn’t know that,” Draco grumbled. “Would have been nice for someone to at least _try_ and find whoever was responsible.”

Harry sighed, straightening up. “I wanted to—”

“But you were the prime suspect, I get it.” Draco waved off his complaints as he rolled his eyes. “Instead you got off easy, Potter. Though I suppose that’s nothing new where you’re concerned.”

Harry felt his cheeks heat up at the dual implication as he spluttered. “I— Sod off, Malfoy.”

Draco laughed after a moment’s pause. “I meant that you’re the Saviour, Potter. No consequences are ever sent your way. Though it was always so like you to think about sex at a time like this. Tell me, Harry…” His voice dropped to a quiet purr here, doing dangerous things to Harry’s pulse at the sound of his name in Draco’s mouth once more. “How badly did you miss me?”

Something was stuck in his throat. That was the only explanation Harry had for floundering around right now with no sound coming out of his mouth, and the heat that continued to spread across his face.

“You say you haven’t come back since that night?” Draco paused, slinking closer in a way that seemed effortlessly graceful and too seductive for someone who wasn’t alive. “Do you remember what happened? Does it keep you awake at night? Not the dying, Potter.” Dropping his voice to a rough whisper, Draco’s smirk had Harry feeling weak at the knees as he realised what was about to happen. What he desperately hoped would happen.

“Draco…”

“Was it enough to keep you going the last two years, I wonder? Sure seemed like it at the time. The way you kept asking for more, Merlin, the way you begged for it. How my name sounded, tasted, in your mouth. You couldn’t stay quiet for more than a second, could you? Had to silence you before we drew a crowd. I couldn’t get enough of you at the beginning and now that I’ve got you again—”

Harry whimpered as the cold chill of Draco’s body pressed lightly against his front, filthy words muttered into his ear.

“—well, don’t you think I’m ever going to let you leave me again.”

Knees threatening to buckle beneath him once more, Harry gulped as he felt the heat radiating from his body meet the frozen air surrounding Draco. He could do nothing more than turn his head to meet Draco’s searching look, gasping as cold air pressed against his neck as Draco placed the whisper of a kiss against him, leaving his body shivering and responding as strongly as if this were the real thing.

“We can’t…” Harry choked out as he felt chilling bursts of air make their way down his neck to just above the collar of his robes, dipping across to his collarbone. “Draco, you’re not—”

“This is real, Harry.” Draco murmured into his shoulder before tracing a path up the other side of his neck to whisper into his ear. “Don’t pretend you can’t feel me right now.”

“Draco…”

“Don’t pretend you don’t want this.”

Harry’s breath caught as he willed his hands to stay clenched by his side, though every part of him was screaming to reach out for Draco, to have him in every way he could.

“You’ve never been able to hide how much you want me, Harry. Don’t start now.”

A shaky moan escaped Harry’s lips as Draco’s incorporeal form pressed against his side, mouth on his ear and arm snaking around his front leaving an icy feeling trailing down his abdomen. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before and he was lying to both of them when he tried to deny how much he wanted this, needed this.

Draco’s pale hand flickered, solidifying briefly before fading away once more. It was enough to jolt them both out of their lust-filled haze for a moment, though when the chill that Harry was coming to newly associate with Draco continued to make its way through his robes and trousers he lost all coherent thought.

Draco chuckled softly into where his mouth was terrorising Harry’s jawline. “Are you still sure you don’t want this?”

“Draco, I—”

“Tell me you want me.”

Harry let his head loll back, giving more access for that tantalising chill to explore his throat as he groaned. “I do. It just isn’t really you, is it?”

“Do shut up, Harry, we’ve already been over this. I’m here. I’m real.”

“Yes, but physically…” He trailed off, biting back a moan that became a growl as Draco’s wandering hands pressed against him and seemed to chill his upper thigh from the inside out.

Draco pulled his head back to smirk at Harry who watched through lidded eyes. “My physical body might be a little—confused—right now, but what matters most about me is here.”

“What matters most? Your…Ghost form?”

Draco let out a shaky breath, smile not quite reaching his eyes this time. “My soul, Harry.”

And that was it, wasn’t it? Complicated as the whole situation was to wrap his head around, Harry realised how true Draco’s words were. This was Draco baring his soul for Harry in the most literal way possible. It was all at once nothing new and everything they hadn’t done before. The physicality of this wouldn’t be new and yet it would be nothing like they had ever physically experienced. Was it even considered physical for Draco? Metaphysical, maybe? _Were they really about to have metaphysical sex?_

“You’ve got that look on your face.”

“Hmm?” Harry said, drawn from contemplating the metaphysicality of Draco’s ghost cock. “What look?”

“Like you’re having a thought. Thinking takes up too much of your energy, Potter.” Draco’s translucent hand pressed against the front of Harry’s trousers, dragging another moan from his throat. “Save some of that energy for what I’ve got planned for you.”

Harry wasn’t sure which physical reaction was stronger: that of his jaw dropping, his heart momentarily stopping or the throb of his cock as he remembered Draco’s eagerness to please. Genuinely surprising during the months they’d shared together, Draco somehow channelled his need to one up Harry in everything into being the most unpredictable lover Harry expected he would ever have.

The look reflected in Draco’s eyes showed that he knew Harry was won over, that the memories of their time together still elicited such a strong response in him that he would never be able to refuse another opportunity. Nodding, Harry swallowed down his fears and oppositions and allowed himself to give all of his vulnerability to Draco, the same as he knew he would get in return.

Shining grey eyes met green in a nervous agreement and before Harry had time to process what was happening, Draco was drifting back to the water’s edge from whence he came. Harry stood rooted to the spot for a long moment, confused and resenting the loss of that otherworldly chill. It took him a moment before realising that Draco was signalling for him to follow while calling out to him and he hurriedly ran to catch up, catching the end of what had been said.

“—and I suggest warming the lake before you step in. It’s cold, even without a physical body.”

“Er...” Harry’s steps faltered as he frowned, confused by Draco’s ask. “I don’t really think I’ll be able to warm the entire Great Lake.”

With a groan, Draco turned to look back at Harry. “Only you could be both so stupid as to think that was what I meant, yet also likely powerful enough to do so anyway. Just warm the water you’ll be in, you git.”

“Thanks, I think?” Taken aback as he tried to find the compliment in there, Harry was slow to draw his wand as he stopped walking, goaded into action only by Draco’s pointed glare.

Casting at the water he childishly stuck his tongue out at Draco in retort, earning himself an eye roll and a fond smile. Harry moved to put his wand away before hesitating at Draco’s raised hand, frowning.

“You may want to cast one on yourself before you put that away.”

“But why? If the water’s warm?”

With a sweeping gaze that caused Harry to flush deeper with every part of him it lingered on, Draco smirked. “You’ll want to keep your clothes dry, I assume?”

Unsure how much he needed it after the heat from Draco’s stare, Harry cast a rushed warming charm on himself before putting his wand back in his robes and meeting expectant grey eyes once more. They were piercing through to his soul as Draco floated a few metres out above the glistening surface, beckoning him to take his place with a pull so strong he thought he might never be able to leave this lake again.

Removing his robes Harry kept his gaze locked on Draco’s, their steady eye contact a perfect contrast to the shaking of his fingers as he dropped the robes in a pile beside him on the grassy bank. He peeled the thin shirt from his body next, grateful Draco’d had the foresight where heating charms were involved. Emboldened as he saw Draco’s predatory gaze drinking in all of him, Harry quickly pulled off the last of his clothing before stepping out of his pants and forward into the water.

It was warm around him as it engulfed first his feet, calves, knees. He paused as Draco drifted lower so that their eyes were level before gliding closer through the water towards him. Gasping as Draco came close enough to feel the incorporeal chill radiating from his body even through his warming charms, Harry was unable to do more than stand there and watch his breath steaming out before him in short succession as he panted.

“You’ve no idea how many nights out here I spent thinking about you.” Draco’s translucent hands came up to cup Harry’s face, resting mere centimetres away from his skin. “It’s been torturous, haunting the very shores that I used to fuck you on.”

Harry whimpered, instinctively reaching out for Draco before quickly jerking his hand backwards. Draco dropped his gaze to where Harry’s hand had just been submerged in his chest, lips tugging upwards into a smirk as he lifted his chin to meet Harry’s eyes.

“Interesting. What did that feel like?”

“Cold,” Harry said. “Freezing, actually.”

Draco’s fingers inched closer to Harry’s face before following the angles of his jaw down to his throat. Here he pressed them against the skin, letting some of his incorporeal form cross the skin barrier; the extreme temperature shift closing in around his throat left Harry gasping for air and all but begging Draco for more, something, anything.

“And this?”

“Yes?” Harry breathed through his constricted airways.

Ghostly hands began gliding down the planes of broad chest at a torturously slow pace as his eyes never left Harry’s face. “This still feels freezing?”

“Yes. _Yes._ ”

Harry hissed as the cold ran over his hard nipples one at a time, Draco taking his sweet time circling each of them in turn before pressing his fingers slightly deeper into Harry’s chest and gliding forward to close the gap between them. Completely giving himself over to masochistic pleasure as Draco’s hips met his, Harry bit back a scream as his cock was almost fully plunged into the subzero temperature of Draco’s body.

“Too much?”

“No,” Harry gasped even as Draco pulled his hips back slightly, rolling them experimentally and pulling another stream of begging from Harry’s mouth.

“I want you to touch yourself for me, Harry.” Draco’s voice was low, breath cool against his face.

Nodding so fast he felt lightheaded, Harry wrapped a hand around himself as Draco watched and continued to let him hands roam. Sometimes his touch was light, sometimes the cold pressed so deep Harry thought his organs might freeze but one thing remained constant: the ever-changing temperature coupled with Draco’s filthy whispers had Harry harder than he’d ever been before.

Pace quickening as he felt his release building, Harry clamped his eyes tightly shut and arched back against the shore. The echo of cold fingers traced along his ribcage and he gasped as Draco spoke into his ear once more, the only noise Harry was aware of over the movement of water between them.

“Open your eyes, Harry. I want to watch when you come for me.”

“Draco—”

“Look at me. Show me how much you want me.”

The abrupt loss of cold sensation against his body paused Harry’s movements before he felt the icy chill as it pressed against the hand on his cock. A deep, guttural moan was ripped from his throat as his eyes fluttered open to see Draco standing before him, translucent hand wrapped around his.

“I love you like this. So undone and desperate for me. So hot, Harry.” Draco’s hand was moving in time with Harry’s, the cold feeling ghosting over his cock such a contrast to his warmth that it almost felt like his skin was on fire. “How badly do you want me?”

“So bad,” Harry panted as he felt Draco’s free hand snaking around behind where he stood to his lower back, hovering close enough to feel the chill but not going further. “Fuck, Draco.”

“Yes, Harry?”

“I…” His breath was coming shorter now, hand on his cock moving more erratically as Draco matched the strokes around him. “Draco…”

“Tell me what you want.”

“I’m going to come, please, Draco—”

His begging became a cry as Draco pressed the hand behind Harry deep inside of him, so freezing it felt like a burn against everything it touched. The other fist around his cock tightened until it felt like Harry was fucking into it with every stroke, both hands sending so many conflicting sensations shooting through him that he finally tipped over the edge. His vision went white as everything that was Draco consumed him and the surge of emotion that came with it was enough to take everything out of him.

Harry collapsed back onto the shore, sated in a way he hadn’t felt for almost two years. Blinking his eyelids open he watched Draco position himself beside where he lay on the bank before leaning over to place a cold kiss on the air just above Harry’s lips.

“I’m glad you came back for me.”


	2. Chapter 2

It had been almost two weeks of dalliances by the lake and Harry was beginning to accept that perhaps dating a ghost—albeit one who refused to acknowledge that he _was_ actually a ghost—might not be the worst way to live out the rest of his days. More often than not their nights involved Draco exploiting all of Harry’s weaknesses in what was possibly the most incredibly erotic sex he could imagine but between the teasing and orgasms, they had real conversations reminiscent of how they’d been back in sixth year. Parting ways in the early hours of each morning left a bittersweet taste in Harry’s mouth; though he was hopelessly lost on Draco once more there was always an underlying fear that one night he would return to find his boyfriend gone again. Their time together had him convinced that this wasn’t an elaborate trick of his imagination however the trauma he’d felt upon seeing Draco drown those years ago never quite left him. He wasn’t sure it ever would.

The sun started to peer out from below the horizon and Harry sighed, knowing that he couldn’t stave off sleep much longer and if he didn’t head back to the tower now, he’d be sleeping on his buttered toast in a few hours. Draco saw the change in his face as he watched the beginnings of the sunrise and smiled sweetly, pressing a chaste almost-there kiss against Harry’s lips before gliding towards the reeds that adorned the water Harry had begun to think of as Draco’s home. Brushing the back of his robes off as he stood, Harry waved awkwardly with a smile and cursed internally at the fact that some things never changed: even in death, Draco was suave as ever yet Harry was clearly fated to remain an alive but awkward git.

The voices he’d heard every night as he followed the trail along the water’s edge seemed calmer tonight, perhaps because Harry had stayed out later and they, like so many other creatures out here, were nocturnal. The few that whispered were quieter yet they lacked the chaotic rubble and echo of their friends, making it easier for Harry to actually make out the words. It took him a few moments to recognise that his suspicions on the first night had been correct: they were talking about him. They seemed to be speaking to someone else in such a way that he wondered if they knew he could hear them, snippets passing through his mind leaning more weight to this conclusion the longer he walked.

“— _the boy is return, my Queen—”_

_“—’tis the eve of their mid moon, should he be taken—”_

_“—perhaps he does not want to be kept, though why ought he return nightly if this is to be the case—”_

_“—planned for this, my Queen, we await your command to act on—”_

Among all of the chatter he realised there was another voice that he could not consciously remember hearing prior and yet as the speaker joined the chorus he was immediately thrown into his memories, flashbacks of the months he and Draco had spent together before his drowning. The voice seemed haunting yet pulled him in, flitting between words Harry understood and a language he had never heard before.

Entranced, Harry lost all rhyme and reason. His feet took him off the well worn path and instead towards the water’s edge, a pained cry from one of the speakers the only thing to stop him before he surrendered himself to the depths of the Great Lake.

Looking down at his feet Harry saw the source of the noise and at once understood why he’d been hearing them as if they were unaware; surrounding him where he stood on the bank were more writhing snakes than he could count. As he looked further towards the water he realised they must be water snakes, for many were gliding on and just below the surface of the Great Lake. Opening his mouth to apologise to the snake he’d clearly disturbed, Harry froze, jaw dropping as his eyes landed on something a few metres from him rising from the water’s depths.

Her eyes were dark, captivating, seeming to see straight through him and into his soul. Hard as he tried he could not look away; his gaze was locked on hers as if he’d been hit with a permanent sticking charm. Harry watched as she glided effortlessly closer to the bank he stood on, finally coming to a rest with her head and shoulders above water just a few steps from him.

“Who… Who are you?”

The womanly figure laughed, a sound that reminded Harry of bubbling brooks and rushing streams. “I am but a water wraith, Slànuighear. This lake is my dwelling, which explains my being here. It does not account for yours.”

“I was… Visiting a friend,” Harry said as he tried to look anywhere but at the haunting depths of her eyes. “What did you just call me?”

“Slànuighear,” she said with a smile. “It is your name, is it not?”

“Er, no. My name’s Harry.” He paused, frowning. “I guess you’ve met someone else like me.”

Lifting herself further out of the water and resting her elbows on the bank, the wraith tilted her face to look at the rising sun and in doing so shifted her hair from behind her to land on the snakes beside her. The dark strands reminded Harry of seaweed, standing out against her pale green skin. He noticed gills along the sides of her head where he expected ears, tiny scales around them which seemed to make up most of her body. The closer he looked, the more Harry realised most of her humanoid appearance was an illusion, a web of intricately layered water-dwelling features.

“No, I remember meeting you through many lifetimes without fail. I have always claimed what is rightfully mine and you are ever present, Slànuighear.”

There was something to the wraith’s voice that made Harry want to step closer, to offer himself up to her in ways which felt more vulnerable than anything even Draco had taken from him. It was captivating yet there was a sharp edge to it, an undertone that should have left Harry feeling warier than he did at present.

He tried to concentrate on her answer, knowing there was something important in there. “Rightfully yours… What do you mean, many lifetimes?”

When her dark eyes met his Harry felt his heart stop, time and space moving around him in ways he could never hope to understand. With long webbed fingers she beckoned him closer, the green sheen to her skin seeming to have an ethereal glow to it as it caught the sun’s light. Without a second of hesitation Harry stepped forward, dropping to his knees before her. Exposing her fanged teeth as she smiled expectantly, the wraith placed her extended hand on Harry’s jaw, pulling him closer to whisper in his ear.

Most of her words were otherworldly, something Harry could not understand, yet they seemed to unlock something within him and his mind’s eye was cast back to fleeting moments with Draco by the lake, both before and after the incident. Her voice echoed, some of the words coming through in a way that made sense as he strained to interpret.

 _“Your soul was always mine, Slànuighear. The disrespect at giving it to_ him _has not gone unpunished. He is now_ mine _, and so too shall you be, as you always have been. Throughout every lifetime you always gravitate back to the water’s edge and now neither of you shall be freed from these chains. It is a shame that his tragic fate was sealed by your hasty actions. I will not go back on my choice; he shall not be freed. You shall be tempted, Slànuighear, as you always have been._ ”

Harry gasped as reality flooded his senses once more, mind clearing as if a fog had been lifted inside his brain. The wraith was pulling away from his face now, a wicked grin across her face that brought creases around her hooded eyes.

“Yes, I think I will take you tonight after all. As always, Slànuighear, it will be my pleasure.”

From the moment her hand was on his skin once more agony filled every fibre of Harry’s being. The scream that ripped from his throat was nothing to the blinding light that seemed to explode from behind his eye sockets; he was drowning in the very depths of his own mind as every painful moment he had ever suffered through came flooding back as raw as the the lived experience. Mum, Dad, Sirius, Dumbledore, Remus; he watched as every parental figure he’d ever had was ripped away from him once more. Death after countless death crossed his mind’s eye and the most painful was shoved to the forefront at last: Draco drowning once again. Every terror-filled moment he’d spent by this lake had been raised to haunt him in synchronised harmony; he watched as Draco was dragged into the depths while the Dementors from third year surrounded him, left him screaming alone as everything went cold and dark.

Shocked back into his body Harry found himself standing a metre back from where he’d been kneeling prior, soaking wet with his wand drawn. The wraith was enraged, thrashing about in the shallows and cursing in her language as she watched the white wisps coming from Harry’s wand. Realising that the memory of Dementors must have triggered his brain to act defensively he smiled as his Patronus took shape before taking off around the lake and halting the wraith’s angry stream of words.

“Interesting…” She watched as the Patronus took its gallop around the lake, eyes seemingly never leaving it even as Harry could no longer see it on the far shores. “This changes things,” the wraith murmured to herself as she began to slip back into the water’s hold once more.

“What?” Harry asked, before quickly turning his wand on her. “What do you mean?”

Though her eyes were steadfastly fixed on the stag as it began the strides back in their direction, Harry felt as though the wraith’s next words were once again speaking directly to his soul.

_“He who harnesses the power of the White Stag… You are destined for greatness, Slànuighear, the Otherworld wishes it, so it shall be. Profound change will face you head on.”_

He raised a hand through his hair in an attempt to flatten it against the raging wind that continued to pick up. “Er…I’m afraid I don’t quite understand,” he shouted. “What about the Otherworld?”

She was sinking once more, shoulders disappearing below the water as her gaze followed the Patronus back to where it took its final stand beside Harry on the lake’s edge. Nothing more than murmurs within his mind now, her words had an eerie lilt to them as she slipped below the surface. _“You wield the White Stag in this lifetime. The Otherworld looks upon you favourably, it would seem. You may persuade me to bring him back yet, but you only have until the moon is complete. A wraith never forgets, Slànuighear. Helena never forgets.”_

Watching her fully submerged now, Harry saw Helena’s eyes meet his as she gave him a delicate nod from below the surface before diving deep so quickly she seemed to fade into nothingness.

* * *

Harry passed Ron and Hermione walking down to the Great Hall for breakfast as he was making his way back to Gryffindor Tower in a daze. Helena’s words were on a loop in his thoughts even as he tried to push the entire debacle from his mind until he felt more connected to the reality he was living in; the nightmarish memories she’d subjected him to had taken their toll and his entire body ached with the pangs of loss as if everyone he had ever loved had died once more. So consumed by the emotions, he barely noticed his friends until Ron all but shoved him into the walls of the corridor they occupied.

“Mate! Are you even listening to me?”

Vaguely in the distance Harry could hear Hermione calling too, though he was unable to make sense of his surroundings as his body could take it no more. He collapsed to the floor, shoulder pressed against the wall and knees going sideways to make contact with the floor. Cold stone met his left cheek as he lolled into the building, eyes drifting shut.

“Bloody hell, ‘Mione. Should we take him to Pomfrey?”

A familiar tingle passed over his skin and Harry realised someone had cast a warming charm—he’d forgotten to dry himself off after Helena had pulled him under, of course—followed by a second spell that had him blinking his eyes open, some of the brain fog lifted.

“Harry?” Hermione asked, swimming into vision. “Can you hear us?”

“Mmm,” he grumbled, rolling to press his back flat against the wall.

“What happened? Where have you been?”

“Why were you wet?” Ron chimed in. “Did you fall in the—”

There was a pause after that, Harry quickly realising that Ron had guessed the truth. He held off answering for a moment; despite knowing he would have to admit some of what had been happening, Harry knew most of it wouldn’t bode well with either of them.

“Er, yeah, actually.” Running a hand carelessly through his hair, Harry looked up at his best friend’s concerned expression. “Fell in the lake.”

“Oh, Harry!” Hermione exclaimed, immediately rushing forward to wrap her arms around his shoulders as she crouched. “What on earth were you doing by the lake at this hour? If anyone had seen you—”

“I know,” he mumbled into the crook of her neck, looking above her shoulder at Ron shifting from side to side. “‘M’not meant to be there.”

 _It’s now or never,_ he thought. “Actually… I found something down there. To do with… Y’know. What happened to Dra—Malfoy.”

Hermione pulled back, keeping her hands on his shoulders. Sharing a look with Ron, she cleared her throat. “Is this where you’ve been disappearing to every night? Because… look, I know you were mad they wouldn’t let you go back to the lake. I know you wanted to clear your name, Harry, but nobody still thinks you did it.”

“This isn’t about clearing my name!”

Ron cleared his throat as he didn’t quite meet Harry’s eyes. “Mate, Hermione’s right. Nobody thinks you, y’know. We all know it was an accident. Except maybe the Malfoys, but they probably won’t be allowed out of the Manor long enough for that to matter.”

Harry looked first at Ron’s avoidant eyes and then to Hermione’s piercing stare, concern splashed across her face. “I know you both think this is about me clearing my name, but it’s not. It’s… I need your help.” He gulped, looking down at his hands. “I found him. Malfoy, I mean. He’s… alive. Sort of.”

“What?”

“Bloody hell!”

Ron and Hermione’s shouts were loud enough to have drawn attention from half the castle and Harry hurriedly shushed them both, gesturing Ron to come closer so he could talk without any prying ears hearing what he was about to share.

“I went down to the lake a few weeks ago and thought I was seeing things, honestly. But he’s really there. I thought he was just a ghost at first—"

“So he _is_ dead?” Ron interjected. “I thought you said—”

“Quiet, Ron.” Harry paused, deciding how much to reveal. “He, er, yeah. He sort of died.”

“Sort of?”

“Hang on! Let me explain. Tonight was different. There was this lady, she said she was a water wraith. She said something about taking his soul and taking mine as well.” Frowning, Harry looked back at his hands. “She tried to drown me, actually. That’s why I was wet.”

“Harry—.”

He held up a hand, cutting Hermione off. “Then she saw my Patronus and said she could give back Malfoy’s soul if I did something. And something about having to do it before the moon?”

There was a silence as Harry finally let himself slump back into the stone wall once more, Hermione taking the hint and sitting back on her heels. Ron looked between them before setting himself down on the floor too, looking only mildly uncomfortable with the position.

“Just to clarify.” Hermione paused, biting her lip as she thought. “You saw Malfoy’s ghost weeks ago now? And didn’t think to say anything?”

“Er, yeah. No, I mean. I just figured it would look bad if I talked about it with me being the last person who saw him, y’know?”

“Mmm. And you’ve been going back every night since?”

“Er…” Harry grimaced, wishing he could skip the questions that he knew would follow. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Why did you decide to go back to the lake, Harry?”

Harry fiddled with his robes, looking down at the floor between them.

“Are you sure this isn’t about clearing your name?” Hermione’s voice was laced with concern, pulling on Harry’s heartstrings. “Because it’s okay if it is.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry nodded before meeting her pitying gaze. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry I said it wasn’t. I just thought maybe you’d think it was, er, stupid or something.”

“I understand,” Hermione said gently. “But we’re your friends, Harry. You can tell us anything.”

“Yeah, mate. I still reckon you don’t need to do it, but if you want help clearing your name… I’m in.”

Grinning at his friends, Harry tried to ignore the guilty feeling at the back of his mind at their quick acceptance of the easy lie. “Thanks guys. I really appreciate it.”

Standing and extending a hand to Harry to help him to his feet, Hermione’s eyes lit up as she likely realised the amount of research ahead of her. “You’ll have to run me through exactly what this woman said to you on our way to breakfast. Did she really say she was a water wraith? I’ve read about them, of course, but they’re so rare and apparently quite dangerous! The first recorded sighting was—”

Sharing a look with Ron as Hermione walked ahead of them spurting facts between her rapid fire questions, Harry buried the guilt deep inside of him as his best mate wrapped an arm around his shoulders and cuffed him gently on the side of the head, muttering about how stupid he was. Smiling to himself, Harry felt that maybe there was a chance for this to all work out. Maybe there was a happy ending to the misery, after all.


	3. Chapter 3

“Harry…I think I’ve found something.”

Though they were the words he’d been hoping to hear for days now, Hermione’s tone left Harry with a bad taste in his mouth. Gulping down his discomfort, Harry made his way over to the aisle she was calling from to find her on the floor, propped up with one elbow resting on her knee and half of the Restricted Section spread out across the carpet in front of her.

Looking up as he delicately placed his feet between two mountains of books and sunk to the floor opposite her, Hermione gave him a shaky smile before tapping on the page in front of her with her index finger. The book was bound in a hide of some form that gave him a squeamish feeling the longer he inspected it. Hermione nodded grimly, sighing as she used her wand to spin the book around to face him.

“Try not to touch the cover. It won’t kill you, but it does seem imbued with some strange casting and I’d rather not chance it where possible.”

Nodding, Harry drew his wand to help ease the growing feeling that something was off-kilter and began to skim the open pages.

“Halfway down on the right,” Hermione whispered.

The words seemed to almost jump off the page at him as he found the section Hermione was referencing and he clutched at his wand tighter, anticipation thrumming through his veins as his heart raced.

_The Deer was considered among the oldest creatures in Celtic Mythology. Thought to be the principal animal hunted by the Celts for food, it held an interesting relationship with their folklore. Doe were associated with most woodland Goddesses, where the Stag was often seen as the incarnate form of woodland Gods such as Cernunos himself. White Stags were considered to be from the Otherworld: in mythology their appearance always heralded some profound change in the lives of those in the myth._

Reading ahead for a moment, Harry saw no further mention of White Stags or the Otherworld.

“This doesn’t seem as ominous as you made it sound,” he said, wary. “Nor does it really answer our questions, though it seems to be what Helena was referencing.”

Hermione huffed, spinning the book back to face her once more. “It is precisely what she was referencing, Harry. White Stag, Otherworld, heralding profound change… Was that not her exact phrasing?”

“Yeah… It doesn’t really explain it though.”

Shaking her head with exasperation, Hermione used her wand to turn the pages further as she spoke. “It gives us a basic understanding of what we’re dealing with and what to search for next. There are also more sections in this text that could be relevant, though I’m hoping they’re just poor translations and we’ll find something less… gruesome, in another relevant book.”

“Gruesome? What—” Harry flinched as the pages stopped turning, almost taking down the stack of books to his right in the process. “‘Mione, what is that bloody thing?”

“A blood ritual,” she muttered with apparent disdain. “The people who believed these things seemed to be quite fond of them.”

“Will I have to… Do that?” He asked, gesturing to the graphic imagery in front of them.

Hermione was quiet for a minute, so long that Harry contemplated asking her again in case she hadn’t heard. Finally she cleared her throat to speak, not meeting his eyes.

“You might. It depends on a few things.” She looked up at him, eyes searching. “Harry, I need to know. This thing with Malfoy. The nights you were at the lake. Was it, um… It wasn’t an accident that you were both there that night, was it?”

Though phrased as a question, Harry knew that Hermione already had her answer. There was too much certainty in her eyes, pity even. He ran a hand through his hair as he thought of what to say, looking away from her knowing eyes.

“Does Ron...?”

“No. I don’t think he needs anyone to tell him until after we know if this works, honestly.”

Harry nodded, grateful she hadn’t outed him yet. “Thanks, ‘Mione.”

She shot him a cautious smile before returning to the book in front of her as she dropped her voice low. “If my theory is correct… Well. You must really love him to be in this situation, Harry.”

Freezing at her words, Harry felt his eyes widen as she continued to peruse the text on the page as if nothing had happened. “Er…”

“You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to,” she said, her free hand waving off his response. “I trust you, Harry. Just be careful, okay?”

He grinned, her easy acceptance reminding him of how much he appreciated their friendship. “You know me. Always careful.”

* * *

Stubbornly refusing to cast a _Tempus_ for fear of acknowledging just how sleep deprived he had become, Harry tried once again to remind himself that being here in the library was the most conducive thing for freeing Draco from his ghostly form. He wanted nothing more than to be down by the Great Lake right now and was equal parts sad and relieved that the table Hermione had chosen for them to occupy was too far from the windows to see more of the Hogwarts grounds than the dark sky outside.

The sounds of pages turning and quills scratching faded into a dull background noise around the same time Harry had given up trying to make sense of the strangely phrased books Hermione kept bringing back to the table. Reading had never been his forte—particularly when it came to holding any level of focus—so instead he was attempting to decipher the intricate diagrams and crudely drawn pictures that littered the tomes. Having been introduced to the branch of magic Hermione insisted this came from through the gruesome drawings a few nights ago, he was pleasantly surprised by the lack of severed body parts and entrails in the book that held his current attention. A few of the images had even been easily recognisable, resembling either creatures that looked like Helena or what he guessed were humans who’d been placed in the same limbo captivity that Draco had. It helped reassure him that they were on the right track, but something still felt unsettling about the whole debacle and he was struggling to keep his hope alive when they’d spent so many nights at it already to no avail.

“I’m beginning to see a pattern,” Hermione announced as Harry turned the page to another depiction of Helena, albeit with more fangs and less hair. “These rituals. The texts. They all keep referring back to the favour of the Goddesses.”

“Mmm,” Harry nodded, looking up from the page to see Hermione’s frazzled expression directed his way. Trying to look more enthusiastic about her discovery, he straightened up in his seat. “Er, good, I think?”

“Good, yes. It’d be better if there were a more direct translation than their love of colourful language but I think I’ve figured out what most of this means.” She pointed at the drawing Harry had in front of him before holding up the book she’d just been observing. “Your wraith friend. She’s the Goddess they’re talking about.”

“Er, Helena?” Harry shook his head before regretting it as the longer strands of his hair flopped forward into his eyes. Brushing them back, he shot Hermione a doubtful look. “She’s a wraith, not a Goddess.”

Hermione sighed, mirroring Harry and pushing her short curls out of her face before flicking the book open again. “I know that, but I don’t think the people who wrote these books did. Centuries ago they had a lot more faith in Gods and Goddesses, Harry. I think that’s part of why your Patronus evoked that response in her. It’s less to do with the actual myths and more to do with the symbolism; the people who believed the myths would probably have used white stags to mean something when they wanted to please her, and now she’s seeing you use one and assuming it’s intentional.”

“I mean… It’s a lot of guessing, isn’t it?”

“Do you have a better idea?” Hermione snapped, closing the book she’d been reading and slamming it on the wooden table between them. “Sorry that I don’t know everything!”

Harry watched as Hermione’s hands began to tremble around the book and realised just how close to home he’d hit her when the first tear started sliding down her cheek.

“‘Mione, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like—”

“It’s fine,” she said as she brought a hand up to hide her face and used the end of her robe sleeves to wipe the tears away. “I’m just tired. We should go to bed.”

Placing his hands over Hermione’s forearm still resting on the table, Harry sighed. It had been a big day for both of them and even now that they seemed to be finally getting somewhere, he felt like they hadn’t really gotten any answers. Starting to wish he’d listened to Ron hinting at this happening when he’d headed off to bed a few hours earlier without them, Harry felt the crushing exhaustion begin to consume him. Yet as with every night since discovering Draco by the lake, Harry knew sleep would evade him until there was certainty surrounding their fate.

As much as it broke his heart to admit it, Hermione was right. They couldn’t carry on as they were forever. Yet every night Harry spent with Draco was one spent taking leave of his senses and giving in to not only primal desire but a love that ran so deep he spent most of his waking hours fantasising about drowning in it.

He needed a solution once and for all. A plan, something to try before his heart won the battle against reason and he let whatever had captured Draco’s soul take his to complete their matching set.

With the resolution of a man who would stop at nothing to be reunited with his love, Harry squeezed at Hermione’s forearm and looked up at her expectant eyes as they glistened in the low lighting. “You can sleep, ‘Mione. But I can’t leave until I figure this out.”

“I thought you might say that,” she said with a fond sigh. “Not that I don’t think you’re capable, but this will be much quicker and easier for both of us if I stay up with you. Besides, I really do think we’ve almost got this figured out.”

Harry shot her a grateful smile as she opened up the book she’d been perusing prior to her outburst and began reading passages aloud once more, occasionally pausing to scribble down notes or interject her own opinions in the commentary. They sat like this for a while longer, barely noticing as the sun made an appearance above the horizon and distant voices started to stir as students made their way to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Rubbing his eyes, Harry realised he had been attempting to read the same string of words for a few minutes, having made his way through so many pages of Celtic prose that words began to look like nothing more than various squiggles rearranging themselves in front of his eyes each time he tried to focus on them. It had also been a while since he had taken in more than a few consecutive words of Hermione’s muttering which is why he almost fell to the ground with shock when she made a shout of triumph and pushed a book across the table at him.

“This is it, Harry! This is exactly what she was speaking about.”

“More Otherworld stuff?” Harry mumbled as he slid the proffered book closer to where his eyes could see. “Great.”

Hermione was practically vibrating with excitement, her energy too much for Harry to match on as little sleep as he’d had lately. Bouncing in her chair, she pushed bushy locks back from her eyes as she gave him no chance to read before jumping in to explain her discovery.

“It’s a ritual, you see—I know it would be, the Celts were always making ritual sacrifices—and this one involves soul connections and tethering a spirit to a place, which seems to line up with how Malfoy explained it to you.”

Interest piqued, Harry gave up trying to read what may as well have been Hieroglyphics to his poor brain at this hour and instead leaned forward to prop his chin up on his hands, elbows on the table. “You’re saying there’s a ritual that can fix this? Something about connected souls? Draco’s spirit is… connected to the lake?”

“Tethered, it’s tethered. _Your_ soul is connected.”

“Hmm?” Harry was trying—and failing—to keep his eyes open and assumed he must have misheard. “No, Draco’s the lake ghost. ‘M’just Harry.”

With a frustrated huff, Hermione tapped loudly on the open page in front of Harry’s elbows. “Yes, and your soul is connected to his! That’s why you’ve had these physical reactions, that’s why Helena will be able to release it for you. It will only work if you’ve established a link there, and she wouldn’t have offered it otherwise. Wraiths can be fickle creatures but they’re not prone to overselling their abilities, lest they look bad for it later.”

“Hang on, my soul is what?” Blinking his eyes open as his third yawn in as many minutes made a break for it, Harry squinted at Hermione’s face. “Er, connected how?”

“Well, that’s the annoying part. There’s not a lot of tangible explanation for this branch of magic, in fact, most of it seems about as legitimate as the rubbish Trelawney spouts. It is the only ritual I’ve found so far that covers every confusing element of this situation however, and the Celts were really known for harping on in poetic language wherever they could.” She gestured to the mountains of books covering the table between them, rolling her eyes. “This is evidence enough of using too many words to create very poor explanations that didn’t age particularly well, if you ask me.”

“‘M’still confused by the soul connection part, ‘Mione.”

Tapping the open book before him again, Hermione sighed as she realised he truly wasn’t up to the task of reading for himself and pulled it back, opting instead to read aloud once more. The further she got into the text, the more alert Harry began to feel. It was hard to feel anything but on edge while his pulse began to skyrocket as the implications of what he had to do began to hit home.

“—the caster then offers up a part of their soul in exchange for that of the tethered spirit, baring their very core before the Goddesses themselves and praying that they have mercy for their sins. This deed shall right the wrongs, though whether the Goddesses choose to return the soul being bargained for is dependent on how favourably they look down upon the caster’s humanity that day. Load of nonsense there, I think. Less about your humanity and more about getting the right soul offering, but that’s nothing a bit more reading can’t do—”

“What do you mean, give up part of my soul? Like a Horcrux?” Harry’s voice trembled on the final word and he would have felt embarrassed if not for the fear he saw reflected in Hermione’s eyes. Dropping to a whisper, he looked back at the page between them. “I’m not sure if I’m capable of that, ‘Mione.”

“I don’t think it’s Horcruxes, Harry. The Celts were a lot more… Prone to creative interpretation, I suppose. I think it’s more likely we’ve got to decipher what soul offerings looked like to wraiths…This all seems to have a very Dumbledore _“love conquers all”_ feeling surrounding it. It’s got to be something you love.”

Harry looked up at her worried eyes again, confused. “Why can’t we just ask Helena first?”

“I have a feeling she may be the one we’re going to sacrifice this part of your soul to. If that’s the case, I don’t think she’ll respect it as much if you’re unable to figure it out on your own. Think of it as solving a Sphinx’s riddle. They won’t give clues.”

“The sphinx in the Triwizard maze gave me feedback on my guesses,” Harry muttered, scowling. “Don’t see what the harm is in asking.”

“I know it seems odd, Harry, but what we’re dealing with here isn’t a simple step by step process. This is a patchwork ritual pieced together from materials that we’re not even sure are correct and I would rather take the well-researched yet symbolic route right now, knowing that these creatures are notorious for being prideful and claiming lives when things aren’t done to their taste.”

He watched as Hermione tucked the books beside her into the beaded bag and tried to make heads or tails of the situation. There was no doubt in his mind that Hermione was making an educated guess with all of the research she’d found over the past week but it just didn’t add up in his mind not to ask Helena. After all, if she was the supposed Goddess to be accepting a piece of his soul, wouldn’t she be the most well informed on what the piece should look like?

“I can practically hear you thinking from here,” Hermione said with a laughing sigh. “Trust me on this, please? If it doesn’t come together by tomorrow… I’ll let you ask her.”

Harry nodded, pressing his lips together in a grimacing smile. “I do trust you, ‘Mione. It’s just a weird situation. And I…” His voice trailed off at the knowing look in her eyes before he turned his head away. “I need to make things right.”

He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder briefly as Hermione stood to leave. “You can’t keep blaming yourself for not doing more, Harry. Just know that you’re doing everything you can now.”

Despite her reassurance Harry couldn’t help the sinking feeling in his chest as he was left alone with the books and his thoughts once more. He had to have faith they would make this work. Their love had come too far to give up on it now.


	4. Chapter 4

It was a few hours before dawn on the eve of Helena’s deadline when Hermione finally realised what Harry needed to do. Though she recommended he wait until the following night so he could rest in preparation for what might be the most painful and exhausting sacrifice he would ever make, Harry was too restless. It had been close to four nights now since he’d last seen Draco and he wasn’t about to let another night come between them if he could help it, exhaustion be damned.

Bidding Hermione farewell at the library’s exit, Harry all but ran to the edge of the Great Lake where he’d come across Helena and stopped for no-one. It was after curfew but luck seemed to have been consistently on his side this past month; Harry could only hope that it would hang around a few hours longer.

Slowing his pace as the water snake chorus began to surround him, Harry steeled himself as best he could before walking closer to the bank, taking great care not to tread on any slithering snakes this time.

Three paces away from the water when she rose from the depths, Harry was prepared for her appearance this time and took a swift step backwards as she lurched forward in an attempt to get a hand on his mind. She settled on the edge of the lake, her lower half still shrouded in the dark water and propped herself on her elbows once more.

“Slànuighear. You return to me. Are you ready to accept your fate?”

Harry swallowed back his fears, pushing his shoulders back and lifting his chin. “I’ve come before you with my offering, Helena.”

“You deciphered my ritual?” Her voice was curious, eyes searching.

“A soul for a soul, right?”

Helena leaned forward with a greedy twinkle in her dark eyes. “You’re sacrificing yourself for him? Slànuighear, how like you.”

Shaking his head, Harry drew his wand and thought of the first time he and Draco had kissed by the water’s edge. Then the second, the third, and every time following. His stag appeared and stood before them both, drawing an awestruck yet wary look from the wraith.

“This is what I give you, Helena. The White Stag you say heralds great power. It represents my parents, the part of my soul that entangles with their memories. I give this to you in exchange for Draco.”

She tore her eyes from the Patronus to consider him, seemingly impressed if somewhat startled by his declaration. “You would give up your family for this man?”

It hurt more than many decisions he’d had to make over the years; the already limited memories he had of the parents who had died for him was something he treasured deeply. But their love was one he knew would be with him forever, waiting with open arms when he did finally move on to whatever followed. Draco was here, now. His past, present and future.

With a shaky voice, Harry nodded and confirmed. “I would.”

“Then so it shall be.”

Not unlike the first encounter with the wraith, Harry felt his senses taken from him and replaced by searing pain. This time he was somewhat prepared, though it dug deeper as the minutes went by and every corner of his mind was scraped clean from the memory of Lily and James Potter. The screams and green light coloured them all, even the more recent moments gifted to him in graveyards and forests. A raging fire spread throughout his mind, destroying all in its wake and Harry watched as his parents faded to nothing more than strangers before his mind’s eye.

When his mental stores had been depleted Harry found himself collapsed beside the Great Lake, shaking and alone, Helena nowhere to be seen.

Shakily pressing his hands into the grass to lift himself up, Harry began a slow spin as he looked around for a sign that anything had changed. There was total silence, so quiet it seemed loud in his ears after the torment his senses had just been subjected to. One foot after the other he continued to turn yet saw nothing, no signs of life or death in the place he’d come to associate so strongly with both.

A rapid change came over him, so sudden that he had to hold his chest as the pace of his heartbeat began to speed up in anticipation. He felt a pull, not unlike the one he’d felt that first night back here and he ran with it, so fast he almost left his breath waiting behind him. His feet were taking him along that path once more and he knew for certain this time that the closure he’d been seeking that night was nigh; tonight would reveal to him whether freeing Draco’s trapped spirit had revived him or simply allowed him to move on to whatever lay beyond. Harry didn’t dare get his hopes up as he rounded the corner, searching for anything to answer the question he so desperately sought answers to.

“What in Merlin’s name?”

Breaking into a grin as he ran towards the water’s edge— _their_ water’s edge—Harry saw Draco standing up from where he appeared to have awoken moments earlier. Looking exactly as he had when Harry’d lost him those years ago, Draco’s expression was dazed as he flexed his fingers experimentally before picking up the nearest thing he could find and throwing it into the water behind him, laughing as it soared through the air.

Seeing his lover able to once again do something so human as throwing rocks had Harry’s breath catching in his chest, pausing his run as he stared with open wonder at the fact that it had really happened. _He’d saved Draco after all._

Draco turned away from the water, whether because he sensed Harry’s presence or he’d had enough of the Great Lake to last a lifetime, Harry wasn’t sure. He noticed the moment that Draco spotted him, his body going rigid and a whole host of emotions flickering across his face before finally settling on a grin that Harry echoed instantly as they ran to meet in each other’s embrace.

“You did it,” Draco said, voice muffled into Harry’s shoulder.

“You’re real. You’re finally here, Draco—”

“I love you.”

“—I love you too.” Pulling away just enough to turn his head to face Draco, Harry met his tear-filled eyes and saw the love that had followed them through life and death reflected there. His lips met Draco’s in a deep kiss as he felt tears of his own spill down their cheeks, rolling off jaws and onto bodies that refused to be parted ever again.

* * *

“Draco—” Narcissa gasped, eyes wide even as her face paled to a deathly white. Turning to Lucius her eyes darted quickly between the two Malfoy men, expression dazed. “This can’t… How is this—”

“Mother.” Draco’s nod was curt even as Harry saw his shaking hands ball into fists by his side. “Father. You both look well.”

Seemingly unable to contain her emotions any further Narcissa flung herself forward, both arms going around Draco’s stiff form. Harry watched uneasily as tears began to flow from her eyes, feeling like he was most certainly intruding on what should have been a private family reunion. Looking away, Harry met watchful steel grey eyes as Lucius Malfoy considered him across the room.

“While I appreciate you have a tendency for the theatrical, Mister Potter, I cannot say I share this sentiment. While I cannot deny the uncanny resemblance I feel that whatever this is—” Lucius gestured to where Draco was slowly bringing arms up to return his mother’s embrace. “—is in poor taste. Showing up in our home like this, tormenting us with this pain…We buried our son almost two years ago, as you no doubt remember.”

From the way the older Malfoy spat his final words Harry had no doubt that Lucius still held him responsible for Draco’s drowning. Lifting his chin Harry met his stare with an even gaze, biting his tongue at the biting retorts that bubbled up. Despite knowing Draco was well and truly alive now Harry still felt a bitter resentment at being blamed for the death of his boyfriend and barred from entry to the funeral.

“It’s him, Lucius. It’s really him.” Narcissa’s voice was breathy but without the slightest hint of shaking, for which Harry had to give her credit. “I don’t know how, but he’s alive.”

Lucius pulled his wand and directed curling purple tendrils towards where Draco was still held in Narcissa’s arms.

Her grip tightened as the spell made contact with Draco’s skin. It dissolved as it touched him before glowing beneath the skin as the tendrils seemingly following his veins, causing him to shiver before stepping back to glare at his father, just enough space between him and Narcissa to still be held at arm’s length. The purple disappeared as Lucius dropped his wand arm limp beside him, jaw slacking as his mouth formed an “O” shape in surprise.

“You…It’s really you?”

Draco snorted. “It took dark magic for you to figure that out?”

The snark was lost on Lucius as he took a few short strides forward and wrapped both his wife and son up, hair curtained over his features allowing Harry a slight reprieve from his discomfort at still being in the room. Draco looked up over Narcissa’s shoulder after a few moments had passed, wet eyes crinkling at the corners even as the shocked expression reappeared on his face.

“Harry saved me.” Draco whispered as he stepped back from his parents, wiping at his eyes. “I know neither of you particularly liked each other before, but perhaps…”

There was a pause as Lucius and Narcissa shared a look before turning their gaze upon Draco once more.

“Draco. You know he likely killed you right?”

Snorting, Draco rolled his eyes. “He didn’t.”

“Well, then, do you know what he’s done to this family over the past two years? We’re stuck on house arrest for the foreseeable future and if it wasn’t for him—”

“I highly doubt that was Harry’s fault, father. And I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Harry. Besides that…” Draco walked to where Harry stood, slipping a hand into his as he turned a defiant gaze on Lucius. “I love him.”

There was a silence as Harry was certain both of the older Malfoys were about to go into shock. Maybe not Narcissa, actually, as Harry saw the knowing glint in her eyes and the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. He felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes again and swallowed down a sob, taking a deep breath as he prepared himself.

Locking eyes with Lucius, Harry gave a cautious smile as he blinked back the tears. “I think... Maybe a fresh start is something we could all benefit from.”

Lucius looked uneasy but gave a hesitant nod towards where he stood. Narcissa removed her arms from Draco long enough to wrap Harry into the embrace, whispering quietly to him through muted tears of her own.

“Thank you for bringing him home, Harry.”

Draco squeezed his hand and grey eyes met his as Harry turned to see the love he felt reflected back at him. He wouldn’t change this for the world.


End file.
